


A Month, A Day

by TheAsexualofSpades



Series: Quarantine Drabbles [83]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Banter, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Sharing a Bed, Sir Leon the Long Suffering, Sleepy Cuddles, Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin), can be platonic or romantic you decide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: Merlin jumps in front of a spell to save Arthur. They're not injured, and no one can figure out what's happened.Then Arthur and Merlin figure out they're tied together. They can't move further than a few feet apart. How in the hell are they supposed to get on with their lives like this?
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Quarantine Drabbles [83]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655
Comments: 51
Kudos: 1462
Collections: one hole shy of perfection





	A Month, A Day

**Author's Note:**

> hehehehehe
> 
> idiots

Fandom: Merlin (BBC)

Prompt: “Wait...don’t pull away...not yet.”

* * *

_“Sire!”_

Leon’s cry comes too late for Arthur to turn, the sorcerer aiming the staff directly at Arthur’s defenseless back. Arthur still tries, moving through molasses as he watches energy crackle from the point of the staff and arc across the clearing towards him. The last thought of _please, let it be painless,_ is interrupted by someone else landing roughly on top of him as they fall to the ground.

“No!”

The heat of the spell sears the top layer of Arthur’s chainmail. He winces, pulls away, realizes he’s still stuck on whatever poor soul jumped in front of him. Blinks. Gasps.

“ _Merlin!_ ”

Merlin struggles to his feet, eyes on the sorcerer. The sorcerer howls in rage, staff crackling once more. This time, he raises a hand and points at Merlin. Arthur flails, trying to stand, push Merlin out of the way. Then Elyan's sword comes down and breaks the staff in two.

“How dare—“

Two seconds later, with the threat of Gwaine and Percival approaching, the sorcerer vanishes.

“Sire!” Leon hurries to his side, sheathing his sword and lifting Arthur. “Are you alright? Did he injure you?”

“No,” Arthur mumbles. Then he shakes his head and repeats himself firmly. “No. I am not wounded.”

He glares at the back of Merlin’s head. “ _Someone_ jumped in front of me.”

Merlin doesn’t turn around, doesn’t shoot some quip over his shoulder. He continues staring at the place where the sorcerer was.

Elyan huffs, coming forward to clap Merlin on the shoulder. “Not that it wasn’t very brave of you,” he says, “but if you keep doing that I’m going to have to start making you metal armor, not just leather.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin says, holding his arms out and turning to show that, well, he’s not visibly injured, “see?”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t unbelievably stupid, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur growls, “really, jumping in front of unknown magic?”

“It’s my job,” Merlin insists stubbornly, “to protect you.”

“What, better than the half-dozen fully armed, fully trained knights?”

“They were too far away! By the time they got there, you could’ve been—“

“And what about _you?_ ”

“What about me?”

_Now what the hell is Arthur supposed to say to that?_

Sensing the tension, Lancelot jumps in. “The point is,” he says quickly with a glance to Merlin, “everyone is alright. No one has been gravely injured, and we are all alive. Let us be grateful for that.”

“Here here,” Gwaine mutters, turning back to where they left the horses. “Come on. I’m starved.”

“We need to pursue the sorcerer.” Arthur tugs away from Leon’s grip, something pulling him away. “There’s no telling how much—“

“We aren’t equipped for a proper chase,” Lancelot cuts in, “we’ve barely got enough to make it back to Camelot as it is. Plus, we’ve got nothing to go on.”

“The staff,” Arthur argues.

“That won’t tell us where he’s gone.”

They all look over to Merlin, who’s leaning over the staff. Arthur moves without thinking, walking until he’s right next to Merlin. Merlin glances up and shakes his head.

“This isn’t something we can trace, and he’ll be long gone by now.”

“Why’re you such an expert?”

Merlin shrugs. “Why would he leave something that could be easily tracked?”

“Merlin’s right,” Elyan calls, “there’s nothing else here. That’s the only thing we’ve got to go on and it sounds like nothing’s going to come out of it.”

“Fine,” Arthur snarls, turning on his heel and stalking toward the horses. Then something jerks him roughly backward.

Did he get caught on something, what’s…

He turns around to see Merlin sprawled on the ground.

“What are you _doing?_ ”

“Tripped,” Merlin mumbles, getting to his feet and following Arthur.

“There is definitely something wrong with you.”

“It’s not a clumsiness curse, don’t worry.”

“You say that like you know exactly what it is.”

Merlin doesn’t reply, just stands still and watches Arthur try and mount his horse.

Try.

His bloody feet won’t move.

The other knights haven’t noticed, too busy with their own horses. Arthur tries again. Something is holding him in place. He glances around and sees Merlin with a white-knuckled grip on the nearby tree. When he stops trying to move, Merlin relaxes, taking a deep breath and walking a few steps forward.

Arthur mounts with ease.

_Bollocks._

* * *

The ride back to Camelot is easy enough. Thankfully Merlin normally rides right next to Arthur. Leon sits on his other side, talking strategy for how to find the sorcerer. He also says they shouldn’t do too much at first before Gaius checks him out, just to make sure there are no ill effects from the magic.

Arthur agrees.

He’s not inclined to bring Merlin with him on sorcerer hunts. Nor is he inclined to bring Merlin everywhere he goes. A man needs his privacy, after all, and Merlin isn’t exactly subtle at _anything._

Of course, the second they get back and into Gaius’ chambers, Uther appears. No one whispers the words ‘Arthur Pendragon’ and ‘magic’ in the same sentence without Uther hearing about it. Privately, Arthur’s joked that the man’s got magical hearing.

Uther hovers, frowning throughout the entire examination until Gaius politely tells him to back off and let him work. Arthur glances at Merlin, fully aware that Uther’s status as the king is the only thing keeping him from suffering the full brunt of Gaius’ irritation. Gaius comes away with nothing.

“Well, you should rest,” Uther says, resting what Arthur’s pretty sure is supposed to be a fatherly hand on his shoulder, “remain in Camelot until we can be sure there are no ill effects. Magic can be deceitful.”

“I understand.” Arthur pushes himself off the table. “Merlin.”

“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, Sire,” Gaius says, “I must examine Merlin. If it is true what you say happened.”

Merlin is not afforded the same protection as Uther or even Arthur, and judging by the way his servant’s face pales, he’s being treated to the full experience of Gaius’ disappointed eyebrow. Arthur’s amusement vanishes when his father taps his shoulder.

“Come, Arthur, you can see your servant later.”

Arthur gets about halfway before he has to fight to keep moving.

“Merlin, stop squirming,” Arthur hears.

“Can’t.”

“Arthur,” Uther calls from the door, “ _come._ ”

And before Arthur can say _anything_ Merlin’s voice cries: “wait!”

Gaius steps back as Merlin lowers his head, jaw working, ears bright red before he looks up at Arthur. Arthur shakes his head as little as he can, saying it’s not worth it, whatever Merlin’s about to do that has him so obviously upset, Arthur will figure it out—

“Can he stay,” Merlin grits out, “please? Just until Gaius is done?”

“Merlin,” Gaius snaps.

Merlin hunches defiantly, using it to mask the way his knuckles are fighting to keep their grip on the table. “I, er, I’m really not good at these and if he’s here…it will…help…”

Merlin trails off, the mortification forcing his chin to his chest. Arthur turns when Uther scoffs, telling Merlin to grow up.

“Father,” he says, “it’s no trouble. I’m…” he leans close, lowering his voice, “I’m used to it. Really, I don’t mind.”

“Then perhaps you should find a new servant.” Uther glances disparagingly at Merlin. “One that isn’t a sniveling boy.”

Arthur huffs a laugh. “I doubt he’d leave even if we banished him, you’ve said yourself how devoted he is to me. He can be quite stubborn for a coward.”

Uther seems to ponder for a moment. Arthur seizes it.

“Plus, it’ll be easier if I just get it over with.” He gestures toward a still-curled up Merlin not moving when Gaius tries to make him. “He jumped in front of the sorcerer’s spell to save me. Isn’t this the least I can do?”

Uther glances down at him and nods sharply. “Well, at least it was him and not you.” Arthur grits his teeth and nods.

With that, Uther sweeps out of his chambers with the command that Gaius come to see him when he’s finished. Arthur’s chest relaxes when his father disappears, moving closer to the table and perching on a stool. Gaius gives him a strange look and finishes examining Merlin, coming away with nothing.

“Now,” he says sternly, “what is it the both of you aren’t telling me?”

Merlin shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Merlin.”

“He speaks the truth, Gaius,” Arthur says, knowing Merlin’s ability to lie is not what it ought to be, “there’s nothing physically wrong, you said it yourself.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s nothing you aren’t telling me.”

“It’s fine, Gaius!” Merlin hops to his feet and heads for the door, oblivious—mostly—to the way Arthur is forced to join him. “Bye!”

Arthur takes Merlin by the elbow and pulls him to his chambers, despite the protests he gets. The second the doors shut, he lets go, pushing Merlin in front of him.

“What,” he snarls, stalking forward, “the _hell_ was that about?”

“I had to convince him to let you stay somehow,” Merlin defends, rubbing his elbow, “didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Why did you jump in front of me?”

Merlin sighs, throwing his arms up. “We’ve been over this! You could’ve been hurt!”

“What, and that’s supposed to—“

“Would you rather be forced to not move apart from the other sorcerer?” Merlin’s hands start waving wildly. “What with how he disappeared you could’ve been forced to run for ages! Across who knows what! You would’ve been walked right out of your boots, unable to stop!”

“But you didn’t _know_ that’s what the spell would do,” Arthur argues.

“I didn’t need to,” Merlin insists stubbornly, “your father said it himself, better me than you.”

“Since when do you and my father agree about _anything?_ ”

“When it comes to having to put up with you being a dollop head!” Merlin drops his arms, walking off in a huff. “ _You’re_ the one that said it was the least you could do.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Arthur walks further into his chambers. “You’re the one that came up with that blasted excuse in the first place.”

“It wasn’t like it was going to be hard to pull off,” Merlin snarls, turning to glare at Arthur with such venom that it freezes them both in their tracks.

“What—“ Arthur licks his lips, his entire mouth running dry—“what is that supposed to mean?”

Merlin scoffs. “Like you don’t know.”

“ _Mer_ lin.” Arthur takes another step forward, opening his mouth again when Merlin cuts him off.

“Oh, please. You make jokes about me being a coward every chance you get. In front of _everyone._ ”

Merlin whirls away, unable to go far, the stiffness of his back speaking volumes where physical distance can’t. 

“It’s not the first time you’ve done it in front of your father either.”

“Merlin…”

“Come to think of it,” Merlin says, “why didn’t we just tell them in the first place? They’re still worried you’re going to drop dead at any second—“

“Because my father’s method of dealing with unknown enchantments is to kill everything he can!”

Arthur’s voice rings in the chamber. The anger drains slowly out of both of them, Arthur slumping into a chair, Merlin hovering awkwardly by the table, twisting his tunic in his hands. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“We should figure out how far we can actually get from each other,” he mumbles eventually, breaking the silence.

Merlin nods. Arthur gets up, carefully coming to stand right next to Merlin. They both try in vain to ignore the way the other one tenses when they get too close.

“Right.”

Arthur walks briskly away from Merlin, waiting to feel it _snap._ They get about halfway across Arthur’s chambers from each other before they have to stop.

“That’s not far,” Merlin mutters, “I won’t be able to—“

Arthur frowns when he cuts himself off. “Won’t be able to what?”

“…get your food and stuff,” Merlin mumbles, making it quite obvious to the both of them that wasn’t what he was about to say.

  
Arthur shrugs. “There are multiple servants in this castle. We’ll get one of them to do it.”

Merlin nods sharply. Then he turns on his heel, pulling Arthur across the room while he retrieves his armor from the cupboard.

“Thank god the desk is here,” Arthur mutters, pulling the paperwork toward him and burying himself in reports and laws and whatnot. But his mind keeps wandering, focusing on the strange look on Merlin’s face when he called himself a coward.

“Merlin,” he calls softly, waiting for Merlin to look up, “I…all those jokes about you being a coward…you know I don’t mean them, right?”

Merlin’s hand freezes on Arthur’s armor.

“I always thought you were the bravest man I ever knew,” he finishes.

The silence resumes a few moments later, but this time it’s not as uncomfortable. Good. If they’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future, they’d better get along.

Merlin scrubs at the armor, sneaking glances at Arthur. Good. He didn’t notice Merlin’s slip-up earlier. He’s not sure even _his_ magic is enough to break free if Arthur actually finds out.

* * *

Arthur yawns, throwing down his quill and glancing at Merlin, crouched as he is over the fireplace and rearranging the logs inside. Standing, he pushes away the dinner dishes and crosses to the wardrobe, starting to pull off his heavy robe.

“Merlin,” he calls, “come help me.”

Merlin gets to his feet and comes to join him, helping him shrug off the heavy fabric. He reaches forward to help Arthur pull off the rest of his outer clothes, being very careful not to touch him. Arthur frowns.

Merlin is all pats and pokes and squeezes and familiar touches. Every morning when he helps Arthur get dressed he pats Arthur’s chest when he’s all finished. He strokes down Arthur’s shoulders and slaps his arm when he’s being particularly annoying—yes, Arthur can admit when he’s being annoying, he’s not _that_ oblivious.

But now, he’s being exceedingly careful to not touch Arthur, lifting his tunic in a way that his fingers don’t even brush the skin of Arthur’s chest. He gets Arthur into his nightshirt and turns away, putting everything in the basket to be washed. Ah, yes, they’ll have to figure that out too. In the meantime…

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, catching Merlin’s arm as he tries to leave, “what do I have to do to make you stop this?”

“What, stop the spell?” Merlin scoffs.

“No,” Arthur corrects, “stop _this._ You’re walking on eggshells around me.”

“Well, it’s like you said.” Merlin raises one shoulder half-heartedly. “We’re stuck together.”

“Doesn’t explain this.”

“What, you want me to piss you off?”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur says, “you’re doing far more than that. Come on,” he coaxes, getting Merlin to set down the basket, “out with it.”

“Really rather not.”

Arthur sighs. He’s not sure why he has to push so hard to get Merlin to talk about things with him. So he tries the only one he can think of, even though he knows it hasn’t worked in the past.

“Just because I’m a prince doesn’t mean you can’t tell me,” Arthur says, “plus, as you said. We’re stuck together, we might as well talk.”

“And what if that’s the reason,” Merlin mutters to himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur frowns.

Merlin shrugs. “Can’t exactly give you time to process, now can I?”

Arthur swallows, not willing to let Merlin excuse his way out of it this time. “That’s not it and you know it.”

Merlin just shrugs again. “Well, what if I don’t want to be in the same room as you after I’ve told you things?”

“Why on earth not?”

Merlin gives him a look over his shoulder. “Don’t stop calling me a coward now, you’ll be giving up so many opportunities to gloat about being right.”

It’s back. That awful, broken tone is back. Arthur walks forward, staying a respectful distance away. He leans against the bedpost and waits.

“Merlin,” he says quietly, “you don’t have to be afraid to tell me things.”

Merlin scoffs and it hits Arthur like a punch to the chest. “Yeah, ‘cause you’ve been so encouraging about me wanting to tell you things before.”

“…what?”

“Oh, don’t pretend.” Merlin shoves the sheets aside angrily, straightening the bed covers with a savage determination. “Every time I tell you I’m afraid of something or that we shouldn’t go somewhere because I’ve got a bad feeling about it you mock me. You make fun of me for not wanting to go on hunts with you because I don’t want to watch you kill things for sport. You tell me my interests are girly and wrong. What, exactly, am I supposed to do with that?”

“I’m just teasing,” Arthur tries weakly.

“And that’s supposed to make it better?”

Merlin sighs, turning away again. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Arthur pushes himself off the bedpost, coming to stand right beside Merlin. “I’m hurting you.”

“If I can be hurt so badly by a few words, maybe I really am—“

“You’re not,” Arthur says sharply, turning Merlin to face him. “You’re _not,_ Merlin. You’re…you’re completely ridiculous. You’re annoying, you’re insolent, you’re clumsy, and—and—“

Arthur squeezes his shoulders tight, relaxing his grip when he sees Merlin wince.

“…and you’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Arthur finishes softly, staring Merlin dead in the eyes and hoping his sincerity bleeds through. “I…I never meant to hurt you.”

Merlin nods. Well, his head bobbles. He reaches up to carefully pry Arthur’s fingers off of his shoulders. “Thanks.”

Arthur waits with bated breath as Merlin turns back towards the bed, smoothing out the covers. His shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Merlin flaps a hand. “Being…whatever.”

“We’ve been cursed to not be more than a few feet apart from each other,” Arthur replies dryly, “I think we’re entitled to being ‘whatever’ for a little.”

Merlin chuckles. He finishes with the bed and goes back to finish lighting the candles, the light casting across the chambers. He stands up and immediately curses.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just remembered I’m not going to be able to go back to my room to sleep.”

Arthur shrugs. “Just sleep here.”

“ _Where?_ ”

“On the floor.”

“I’m not sleeping on the _floor,_ ” Merlin splutters.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Asking to share my bed, are we?”

“ _What?_ I—“ Merlin stops when he sees Arthur giggling at him from across the room. He narrows his eyes. “You prat.”

“I know, I know,” Arthur says, “but your face…I’m sorry.”

Merlin huffs, crossing his arms.

“But seriously,” Arthur says, gesturing to his bed, “there’s more than enough room for both of us. And it’s not like we’ve never slept together before.”

“Ex _cuse_ me?”

“On the forest floor, Merlin,” Arthur says, turning to finish pulling on his nightclothes. “Surely this won’t be that much more difficult.”

It takes a little more cajoling but eventually, Merlin accepts, finishing with the remainder of the chores he can do and coming to hover awkwardly by the bed.

“You can put the candles out,” Arthur says, jerking his head toward them, “it’s not like we’ll need them to sleep.” He frowns when Merlin doesn’t immediately move to do it. “What?”

“Nothing,” Merlin says quickly, putting them out. It makes Arthur have to take a few steps this way and that to make sure they’re not about to be yanked toward each other but he’s too worried about what Merlin’s _not_ telling him to be too put out about it. When he’s close to the wardrobe, he fishes out another one of his nightshirts and tosses it at Merlin’s head. “What’s this for?”

“For you to sleep in,” Arthur replies, getting into bed, “come on, I want to go to sleep.”

“No one’s stopping you!”

“ _Mer_ lin, stop being a clotpole and come to bed.”

“If that’s how you treat everyone who shares your bed it’s a wonder you’re alone so many nights.”

Arthur hides a smile as he gets comfortable. At least Merlin’s back to bantering with him. He closes his eyes, settling into the bed, hearing Merlin’s clothing rustle and feeling the other side of the bed dip as Merlin gets in. He frowns. Merlin’s practically hanging off the edge of the bed, barely covered by any of the blankets. He turns over. Just as he thought, Merlin’s head is barely on the pillow.

“Well, that can’t be comfortable.”

“I’m fine.”

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, reaching to pull Merlin more fully onto the bed, “stop being ridiculous. This isn’t that much of a problem for me, come on—“

He freezes when a strangled noise cuts the air.

“…Merlin?”

“I’m fine.”

Arthur sits up, glancing around his chambers. It’s dark now, so he can’t see much of anything, but he can make out a trembling Merlin on the other edge of his bed.

“God, Merlin,” he mumbles, tugging his servant more carefully under the covers, “there’s no need for you to be cold, there’s more than enough room.”

“Not cold,” Merlin mutters, burrowing his head in his arms and staring resolutely away from Arthur, at the window.

“Then what’s wrong,” Arthur asks, “please…”

Merlin shakes his head. “Not in the mood to be teased right now.”

“I won’t,” Arthur replies instantly, “I won’t.”

Merlin sighs, letting Arthur pull him further onto the bed and roll him over, still refusing to meet his eyes as Arthur flops back down, having overexerted himself in that position. He waits.

Merlin mumbles something under his breath.

“A little louder?”

“I’m afraid of the dark,” Merlin blurts, curling in on himself, ears burning red again. “There. I said it.”

Oh, _Merlin…_

Well, at least it explains why Merlin doesn’t like sleeping in the woods alone. Hell, it makes _Arthur_ jump sometimes.

“Is that why you wanted to face the window?” Arthur asks quietly.

“’S light,” Merlin mumbles, “but then I can’t see what’s behind me.”

“So me grabbing you didn’t help.” Merlin shakes his head. Arthur chews on his lip. Then he makes a decision. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes.”

“You’ll forgive me for not wanting to trust you at all.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Merlin. I’m not going to scare you. Just…close your eyes.”

“I’m going to regret this,” Merlin mutters but does as he’s bid. Arthur takes a moment to admire how lovely Merlin looks in the dim light before shifting.

“Come here.”

Merlin furrows his brow but keeps his eyes closed. “ _What_?”

“Come here,” Arthur repeats, opening his arms.

“I’m already in your bed, what more do you want from me?”

“I’d like you to come here.”

Merlin rolls his eyes but edges closer, letting Arthur wrap his arms around him and pull him to his chest. The way he’s curled up lets him slot his head neatly under Arthur’s chin, Arthur laying them both down on the pillow.

“I’m right here,” he says calmly, using one hand to pull the blankets around both of them, “nothing is going to hurt you. I won’t let it.”

“Arthur—“

“Shh,” Arthur hushes, rubbing his hand up and down Merlin’s back, “it’s alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

“…you don’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I want to.” Arthur shifts his grip. “Plus, this way, I won’t get yanked awake in the middle of the night if you fall off the bed.”

“I’m not _that_ clumsy,” Merlin mutters, sleep already coloring his voice.

Arthur hides a smile as he allows his own eyes to drift closed. “Go to sleep, Merlin.”

* * *

Remember all those things Arthur said about how having to stay close to Merlin would be unbearable?

  
Well, as it turns out, living with this curse really isn’t that different from what they normally do.

Merlin staying the night in his chambers just means he gets breakfast on time every day, as when they wake up they tell one of the other servants to fetch it. Merlin gets Arthur dressed before breakfast arrives which means it’s plenty warm when he tucks in. Merlin gets started on daily chores as Arthur finishes. Training isn’t any different; Merlin’s there most of the time anyway, and he’s close enough that Arthur can move and fight without being yanked closer. If anything, it’s been a change for the better. Now when Arthur is summoned to uncomfortable meetings with his father or boring council meetings, Merlin is there to make funny faces just to make him laugh, or accidentally spill a goblet of wine and splutter that they must get him cleaned and changed immediately.

Honestly, Arthur would go as far as to say it’s not much of a curse at all.

The only time they really feel it is when they have to go out on patrol. Thankfully, the knights are used to seeing Merlin with them anyway, so they’re spared the speculation of why Merlin’s here in the first place. Unfortunately…

“Come on, Princess,” Gwaine taunts, “surely you can stand to be parted from your Merlin for _three_ minutes.”

“Gwaine,” Merlin mutters, whacking the knight on the arm with the waterskin, “stop it.”

“Oh come on, I can’t have you for two minutes alone?”

“You can’t have me,” Merlin retorts, much to the glee of the other knights.

“And Arthur can?”

That slaps the grin right off Arthur’s face. He knows what Gwaine means by that and that is most certainly _not_ what’s happening.

Merlin just snorts, shoving Gwaine away. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me.”

“Now _that_ is a bald-faced lie,” Elyan says, sparking a lively conversation that thankfully lets Merlin and Arthur slip back into the background. Arthur breathes a sigh of relief, coming to stand by Merlin’s side.

“You’d think he’d get bored after a while,” he mutters to Merlin.

Merlin chuckles. “I don’t think Gwaine gets bored of flirting with everything that moves, no.”

“It’s been, what, a month now?”

Merlin nods. “He’ll find something else to talk about, I’m sure.”

“Well, the sooner we get this curse broken, the better.”

Merlin glances up at him. “So sick of my company, are you?”

“Sick of your shite, maybe.”

“Liar.”

Arthur shoves him, unable to stop the fond smile when it just makes Merlin laugh harder.

“Damn sorcerers.”

They both turn back to the circle of knights where Leon is shaking his head. They join them, Arthur asking what they’re talking about.

“Telling us about that wild goose chase you sent him on,” Gwaine says with his mouth full, “after that sorcerer a moon back, you remember?”

Arthur nods, trying to keep his cool. “And?”

Leon huffs. “Found him. I told him to take off whatever spell he put on you and Merlin. Do you know what he said?”

“What?”

“Said the spell was only supposed to last a few hours.”

The pit of Arthur’s stomach drops. Leon doesn’t notice, continuing to tell his story.

“Of course, he vanished again before I could ask what he meant, but…” He shrugs. “At any rate, whatever it was—if it even _did_ anything, it’s gone now.”

The knights keep making jokes but Arthur’s not listening.

A few _hours?_

It’s been a _month._

Judging by the way Merlin’s looking like he’s gone and turned to stone, he’s just realized the same thing.

So they…

Without having to…

Hmm.

They get their confirmation when Lancelot offers to help Merlin fill the waterskins. Gwaine huffs, offended, but Arthur just waits. As Merlin and Lancelot vanish over the hill, he waits to be jerked to his feet and run off to join them, but it never comes. It never comes.

“Sire?”

He looks up to see Leon staring at him, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Leon,” Arthur says, “just tired. What were you saying about the purple saddle?”

* * *

When they get back to Camelot, Arthur immediately hustles Merlin into his chambers, not saying a word until the door is firmly closed behind him.

“Did you know,” he asks, “that it—“

“No!” Merlin tangles his hands in his hair, turning around in panicked circles. “No, I didn’t know! I thought—I would never—“

“Alright.” Arthur starts pacing. A month. A _month._

And yet…as angry and frustrated as he’d like to be right now, he really can’t summon that much ire towards the whole thing.

It’s been a nice month. A month of having Merlin by his side, unwavering, always there for him. A month of always having someone to talk with, mutter to out of the corner of his mouth, confide him. A month of having a warm body next to him when he wakes up.

A month of Merlin.

“Merlin,” he says finally, causing both of them to halt in their tracks, “I’ve…I’ve enjoyed this past month.”

He looks up slowly, wary of trying to push too hard, especially when they’re both keyed up like this, but Merlin’s looking at him with hope in his eyes and he swallows his fear. 

“I…I wouldn’t be opposed to continuing like this.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I...er, I wouldn’t be either,” Merlin stutters.

“Right.”

“Right.”

“Shall we, er—“Arthur waves toward the bed— “make ready to sleep?”

“Yes,” Merlin says in a rush, “just let me—“

“Where are you going?”

“Well, now that I know I’m not about to drag you across the castle,” Merlin says, already halfway to the door, “I can get my own nightclothes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur says, “you can keep using mine.”

“B-but—“

“Please,” Arthur says, “it’s no trouble.”

Merlin pauses, his hand on the door. “Arthur, do you…do you _like_ seeing me in your nightclothes?”

Now it’s Arthur’s turn to flush bright red. “…maybe.”

He braces for the teasing he knows is about to come but it doesn’t. Merlin simply goes to the wardrobe and selects a nightshirt.

“Really? Just like that?”

“Your clothes are all fancy, why not?”

“You’re not going to tease me?”

“Not right now,” Merlin shrugs, “I’ve got lots of opportunities in the future.”

Arthur sees through the cheeky smile to the worry still hovering behind Merlin’s eyes. So Arthur gives him a fond smile in return.

“Yes, you do.”

Sliding into bed is easy, as is pulling Merlin into his arms. Merlin settles instinctively, until he tenses.

“You, er, you know you don’t have to do this.” He tries for carefree but it’s not working. “I’m not about to yank you awake if I fall.”

Arthur lifts his chin gently. “Are you still afraid of the dark?”

Merlin’s cheeks burn but he nods. Arthur smiles.

“Then shh and sleep. I’ll be right here.”

He tries not to grin when Merlin nods off in his arms not a few moments later.

In the morning, when they wake, Arthur goes to roll out of bed to get their breakfast called up.

“Wait…”

He still instantly, looking back to see Merlin blinking his eyes open lazily, reaching out for Arthur’s warmth. And _oh_ he looks so _soft_ in the morning light, and Arthur wants to cuddle him back into his chest and stay there, letting the sun reach its golden fingers through the window, lull them both back to sleep.

“…don’t pull away…” Merlin’s voice, thick with sleep, coaxes Arthur back. “…not just yet…”

“Sleepy,” Arthur teases gently, scooping Merlin back up, “think you’re going to fall back under?”

“’S not dark,” Merlin slurs, “it’ll be easier.”

“Still want me to hold you?”

Merlin nods, spindly fingers clutching him tightly.

“Alright, you big softie,” Arthur mumbles, already falling back asleep himself, “you go on back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

As he drifts off, he smiles. This is really nice, having Merlin here like this. Maybe…maybe after a little while longer of this, Merlin will feel comfortable enough to tell him he’s a sorcerer too.

Honestly, did he _really_ think Arthur hasn’t noticed?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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